


Valentine's Day at the Gardens

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [41]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-14
Updated: 2005-02-14
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn has a masterful plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Day at the Gardens

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For Alex, my friend and beta.  
> Many thanks to Ula for her beta work.  
> Thanks also to Nerowill for her clever suggestion that the lads use Elvish endearments.

Valentine's Day was upon Quinn and Ian again, bringing the usual quandary: how to keep their love private while celebrating its importance in their lives. Of course, they could ignore the holiday altogether. Just because it was a lovers' ritual did not mean the men had to participate.

This option did not appeal to Ian and Quinn. They'd consistently chosen to honor special occasions, rather than denying themselves the pleasures inherent in them.

Ian might have known Quinn had a surprise planned when he casually handed his young lover a navy suit instead of jacket and slacks on February 14th.

That Monday had started out as an ordinary spring semester day: Ian's first period course, the professors' combined office hours, then their third period classes. Quinn had on a charcoal suit, a typical teaching outfit for him, so Ian thought nothing of it when Quinn offhandedly asked him to a working lunch. However, when they reached the student center, Quinn kept on walking, Ian pacing him in bemusement. Luckily, Ian was nothing if not flexible, so he accepted the change in apparent destination gracefully.

Though he knew it was Valentine's Day, Ian did not assume that this departure from their routine was necessarily related to it. But his hopes started to rise when Quinn led them off campus completely, to Twileque Avenue, the main street of their college town.

Quinn didn't disappoint him. He came to a halt in front of one of their favorite local eateries, The Gardens. With an impish grin borrowed from Ian, Quinn waved his hand, inviting Ian inside. They entered to a crowd of executives: bankers, realtors, stockbrokers, and the like, many of whom worked steps away in the central business district of Morganton. Here, Ian and Quinn blended in seamlessly, their suits and briefcases indistinguishable from those around them.

Quinn had played this perfectly; they hid in plain sight while the high-powered throng swirled around them, oblivious. Quinn asked for a quiet table so they could work during the meal. After all, their briefcases contained PDAs, laptops, and legal pads; it would be easy to combine business with pleasure. Luckily, a booth opened up five minutes after they walked in.

Planters with white carnations decorated the tops of the booth dividers, giving Ian and Quinn additional privacy. The Gardens earned its name with these quiet touches, along with many others. Two red roses peeked from a bud vase between them, presumably in honor of the holiday, though the usual celebrants would not arrive until dinnertime, a few all-important hours away.

The booth faced a greenhouse, which provided the plants and flowers decorating the restaurant. Their table placement had a double benefit: not only did the men feel surrounded by nature, they also had no neighboring tables within view. The two had been fortunate enough to be seated here before, when they'd really needed to get work done.

Quinn resisted the urge to take off Ian's topcoat, as he might at home, and concentrated on removing his own. Settled in the booth, briefcases by their side, the men grinned at each other over their menus. Speaking in the low voices they saved for public places, Ian and Quinn switched into 'date' mode, a relatively rare occurrence in their situation.

Ian's undertone of teasing made a perfect counterpoint to Quinn's deepening rumble in the general hum of lunchtime chatter. After the server had taken their order and brought the drinks and garlic rolls, the men were fairly certain they had at least fifteen uninterrupted minutes until the arrival of their entrees.

Ian took advantage of this by nonchalantly tasting Quinn's shiraz, making sure to fit his lips over the exact spot on the rim from which Quinn had sipped. Quinn's eyes widened at Ian's effortless sensuality, then he picked up Ian's own glass to return the favor.

"How's the wine?" asked Ian teasingly, then let a bit of tongue show when he moistened his lips.

Oh, his lad was nothing but mischief today, and Quinn knew just how to play with him. "Delicious, full-bodied, and robust," Quinn drawled as he looked at Ian, allowing his appreciation to shine through.

Thrilled that Quinn was playing along, Ian said, "Glad you think so. You know, this is even better than last year at the bookshop." Ian's grin was sweeter than the wine.

Quinn, who had long pondered this bold strategy, was delighted. "Thank you, my fea (soul)."

Ian's grin broadened. "Ah, Sindarin." The professors usually spoke the Quenya dialect of Elvish together. "You're quite welcome, muin nin (my dear). I can see that I'll have to start early on next year's surprise."

"Ah, Ian, you're a constant surprise to me, and I'm the luckier for it."

Ian basked in Quinn's praise; he knew he was a bit of a handful for his reserved lover, and was gratified that Quinn never stopped enjoying his mischievousness.

They got out their laptops with just a bit of excess enthusiasm, and started in on an e-mail discussion of Maurice, which Quinn had added to his British Novels syllabus, despite Ian's concerns.

Ian typed in: As soon as we got here, I thought of Maurice and Alec "roaming the greenwood" together forever.

Quinn responded: So you like "happily ever after"s, do you, now?

Ian tapped: I wouldn't have it any other way.

Quinn didn't need to use the emoticon grin; Ian looked up to see his irresistible smile. He answered: Neither would I, lad.

The men put their computers away after a few more minutes, and talked about coursework for the next little while, expecting their food momentarily. Sure enough, a bare five minutes after the last of the teasing, the server brought out pasta primavera for two.

They passed one another romano cheese, garlic, and oregano, making sure to brush fingers discreetly on each hand-off, relishing every 'innocent' touch. Quinn found himself using a bit more cheese than was strictly necessary, to Ian's evident delight. Ian and Quinn were nothing if not inventive, and enjoyed putting their creativity to use in the best of ways.

Their eyes were drawn to the greenhouse as they ate; it held a profusion of orchids, violets, and roses, framed by plants and miniature trees. This verdant paradise particularly captivated Quinn, especially in the midst of an upstate New York winter. He could all but smell the chlorophyll. They'd have to wait a couple of months for nature to gift them with this bounty in the world outside.

"The perfect antidote to winter," Quinn said with a smile, the riot of growth and color calling to him in an elemental way.

"Just what we needed," said Ian, all but purring.

They split the bill to reinforce the illusion of a business lunch, then headed back to work, the rest of the day more enjoyable after their Valentine's oasis.

When the men got home that evening, they dragged the air bed from Ian's room into the terrace garden, then brought in the pillows, sheets, and quilt. Soon the two had a cozy little nest surrounded by Quinn's beloved greenery.

Just before they went to bed, Ian stopped by his desk to retrieve an envelope for Quinn, and handed it to him with a flourish.

Quinn smiled in anticipation. "Ah, we're both fond of surprises, I see." He opened it to find a gift certificate to their neighborhood nursery. Quinn, of course, was already a steady customer, and this would allow him to make inroads into his study. Perhaps a new plant ledge under the model train tracks...

Quinn embraced Ian, nuzzling his ear. "Thank you, my love," he breathed into the whorls. "You always know just what I want." His kiss was a promise of the delights to come.

They undressed each other and snuggled together under the covers, exhaling twin sighs of contentment. Quinn wrapped Ian in his arms possessively, feeling Ian's shiver of delight.

"Thanks for the wonderful lunch, Quinn. I can't imagine a nicer Valentine's Day."

"You're welcome, lad. It's a rare gift to date you in public."

"For me too." Ian started to nibble on a particularly delectable bit of Quinn's jaw. "But now I'm glad to have you all to myself."

"What would you like to do with me, then?" Quinn asked, eyes gone smoky blue.

"You mean, what wouldn't I..." Ian's correction trailed off in favor of one of Quinn's luscious kisses.

He settled himself on top of Quinn without breaking the kiss. Quinn had long known that Ian's hips were a force of nature, and considered himself blessed to be currently pinned under them.

Quinn managed only one coherent sentence after that: "Melithon le anuir" (I will love you forever), echoed by Ian in little gasps.

Valentine's Day had crystallized down to the essentials: Ian and Quinn aching sweetly to become one.


End file.
